


The Bind That Breaks

by quartermasterandhisagent



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Magic Revealed, Technopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2742698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartermasterandhisagent/pseuds/quartermasterandhisagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years. It had been six years since Q had joined MI6, not hesitating for a second to leave his past life behind. He’d been careful, more than careful, but six years of hypervigilance hadn’t done him an ounce of good. </p><p>Part of the 00qreversebang challenge</p><p>Artwork: http://assasyngal.tumblr.com/post/104752209464/the-bind-that-breaks</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was such a fun challenge, and I'm grateful for the artist I had the chance to work with. All genre errors are entirely my fault, I kind of went out on a whim here. Paranormal stuff is not normally what I work with, but I enjoyed this a lot.

Six years. It had been six years since Q had joined MI6, not hesitating for a second to leave his past life behind. He’d been careful, more than careful, but six years of hypervigilance hadn’t done him an ounce of good. He hadn’t been Quartermaster the entire time, far from it. But he had earned himself the position of R six months before the explosion at HQ, which had killed Major Boothroyd. In hindsight, he should have known even the position of Quartermaster of MI6, and all the security perks that came with it would be no match for the supernatural world. After all, it was a world Q had spent most of his life in. He just hadn’t expected it to be such an issue in the mortal world. 

The problem really was Bond. If it were actually possible for Q to have some kind of Kryptonite (not that Kryptonite was actually real, thank you very much) the man would be it. Everyone at MI6 knew about Q’s thing for Bond -- from Moneypenny to Tanner and M, right down to his minions in Q Branch-- except the man himself. Eve was concerned how much this crush Q had on James was impacting his health, and really there had been times when Q wished that was the extent of it. He had found himself using his abilities more frequently in the past eight months since he had been promoted to Quartermaster and started working with double-oh seven more directly. For whatever reason, Bond would now only work with Q, and still being Her Majesty’s Best, James had terrible hours that had lead Q to work himself into the ground trying desperately to keep the man alive and in relatively one piece.

It had scared the hell out of his minions the first time Q’s lapse in absolute control occurred. Bond was infiltrating a near-by power plant , foiling a domestic terrorism plot to compromise a major node in the power grid. The mission was proceeding about as well as could be expected, given that double-oh seven wasn’t any more willing to follow directions given to him at all times despite his demands for Q to exclusively handle his missions, and the group they were dealing with were particularly reckless. The stakes were high, and Bond’s cover had been flimsy at best given the high paranoia among the upper echelon of the group, so it wasn’t particularly surprising when Bond had been compromised by some half-wit who got lucky and wanted to impress the bosses. 

They had prepared for this, and Bond was dealing with it the way every double-oh was trained to deal with it. Really, James had more experience than most, even among double-ohs--his brand of recklessness had cost him more than one cover identity; it really wasn’t coincidence anymore that half the time Bond went around introducing himself by his actual given name, protocol be damned. What they hadn’t prepared for was Q’s reaction to the suddenly very real possibility of Bond being electrocuted to death with a frankly alarmingly large live wire. There was no way of simply pulling the plug, not without throwing all of London into a major blackout that could last for weeks--which wouldn’t do James any good because guns don’t require electricity for you to shoot someone-- so Q busied himself with re-establishing connection with double-oh seven’s earwig, scanning lesser used frequencies that weren’t well known until he found one that worked.

“Double-oh seven? Come in, double-oh seven.” Q was grateful his voice betrayed none of the worry he had for the safety of the agent, even though the anxiety in the room at this point was palpable, having drawn a rather large crowd as the evening dragged on. There was no immediate response, save for a grunt as something , probably a fist, connected with Bond’s stomach. His minions had been able to maintain visuals on the facilities all evening, though Q privately wondered if that was the point, to show that they knew Bond wasn’t alone, but was still relieved to reestablish communication. 

A beat of silence, and then one of the men picks up the sparking cables once more. “I could kill you with this, it wouldn’t even be terribly hard. There’s a lot the human body can handle, even as well-equipped as yours. I’m afraid this isn’t one of those things,” the man says, smirking as he made his way to the metal chair Bond was tied to.   
Q takes advantage of the pause in the theatrics, steeling himself before saying “I trust you’ve broken free of those restraints by now, double-oh seven. Seven years in the navy, I trust you’re not having any difficulty with a little bit of rope. A retrieval team has been scrambled to your location, and will be on stand-by momentarily.”

He takes a breath to continue, but is interrupted when one of the other men in the far corner who has been on watch abruptly stands, retrieving his sidearm in a single motion. This catches the attention of everyone in the room, and the first man -- their main target -- turns towards his security to whisper something Q can’t hear before appraising Bond once more. “Marcus tells me that you’ve brought friends. How wonderful! I must admit, I didn’t think you were that influential, you don’t seem the type to make friends easily, so I wasn’t expecting more company tonight.” The man seems amused, perhaps even unfazed by this change of plans. 

Somewhere towards the back of the room Q hears Moneypenny’s hiss, and someone else’s horrified gasp. He himself has to suppress a shudder, not because of the man’s theatrics which are really cliche at this point, but because of the familiar ring to the words, even though he knows James cannot afford for Q to take his mind off the mission for even a second to place the familiarity of it all. Bond for his part, betrays nothing. He lets out a short, breathless laugh because he has been free of his bounds for over thirty minutes, biding his time for the retrieval team to scramble and the gadget he had planted on the back of Marcus’ laptop earlier in the evening to finish recording the necessary data. “It’s a shame you won’t ever know how well-equipped I am, what I am truly capable of,” Bond returns easily once he has caught his breath.

To this, the man simply raises the one eyebrow, cocking his head slightly to the side, as he adjusts the heavy duty gloves that would protect the man when he does get around to electrocuting Bond. Q knows the agent’s time is running out, so he isn’t per se aware of his building anger and frustration towards the way things are unfolding. He’s much too focused on shouting directions at his staff to properly direct the retrieval team while he focuses on an exit strategy for Bond, fingers dancing across the keyboard. The man steps closer to James now, a smug grin now plastered on his face, and Q can’t control his rage now, hasn’t come up with a solution of breaking through the system quite yet. He watches helpless as the man picks up the cable once more, only to jerk backwards suddenly. He hits the floor just as a flash of light obscures the video feed, the cameras wobbling from their hinges before cutting out clearly. Almost simultaneously, Q finds himself horizontal. He hears James voice distantly though, distantly as if it is much further away than it should sound even over the comms, “What the fuck was that, Q?” Q for his part doesn’t get a chance to reply, not coherently anyways--he’s sure his response is garbled as the darkness already moves in.


	2. Chapter 2

At first Q thinks he’s dreaming. It’s the only logical explanation really. He’s been in the earthly dimension for so long that some part of his brain has shifted from the fluid understanding of magic to the concrete, finite world of physics. For him of course, time passes much differently than for mere mortals. In his reality, six years hadn’t been very long at all; the rules of Earth had just been so comforting that he had almost let himself believe that he really was as young as everyone, especially Bond, believed he was. He wasn’t as old as some of the people he had known in his past life, and he’s sure some of his elders would scoff if they ever found out about his desires and attempts to blend in as a human, a mortal with weaknesses. This is why Q thought he was dreaming.

When he can muster up the energy to get up off the floor he, which is really his first clue because what dream starts with finding yourself laid out flat on your back on the ground, he recognizes this for what it really is. He takes in the dark charcoal walls, and the hollowness of the air before it clicks into place in his brain. Shite, he thinks numbly. One slip-up, one lapse in his absolutely perfect self-control in six years and he’s made himself vulnerable to the world he thought he left behind for good. By the rules of his world, six years is an almost miniscule amount of time, but it has been long enough for Q to know this is the last thing he wants. He’s almost crushed by how little control he has over the situation now, how easily they have just yanked him back into all this chaotic mess.

He thumps his head back against the smooth, cold wall, sighing. Q thinks he could laugh about how right Boothroyd had been on his first day at MI6 when the older man had warned him about how temporary his position had the potential to be. Of course Boothroyd had no idea of Q’s past, thinking his untraceable background was solid proof of his computer skills and not at all related to Q not having one. Really Q should have been more careful in holding back his abilities as a temp in Q branch. If Q had only been more careful maybe he would have been allowed to stay longer.

He knows now there’s really not any use to dwell on it, especially given he could be here for a frankly absurd amount of time before anyone bothers to fetch him or track down one of his elders. Q tries not to let himself panic when he realises he can’t remember how long the time conversion is -- the amount of time he can spend here before he has to fight his way back so it doesn’t become suspicious on Earth. He’s heard rumours that it’s much like mortals describe comatose patients in hospitals, how the soul can’t leave the body. He briefly wonders if they’ve moved him to a hospital, or if he’s in medical three floors above Q Branch. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll have snagged Bond’s bed…

In the relative safety of this in-between world he can allow himself to think of James, of how much his mother would have liked him if he could bring him home like people do. Not that they were ‘a thing’ despite all of Moneypenny’s pestering. He told her it was unprofessional to date colleagues, but it was really more than that. There were consequences to becoming attached to mortals. It wasn’t as rare as some would like to think, going off to live among others for a while but not particularly approved of. Q had been forced to attend a council to prove he understood the dangers of meddling.

This was one of the conditions he supposed, although Q was irritated at that because it was hardly as if he could control his emotions at every second while fighting his urge to use magic, and perform his duties as quartermaster at the same time. The only real surprise is how sudden it all was, although he knows the root cause of it all. Moneypenny could say what she wanted about Q having a crush on James bloody Bond, but he knew it was much more than that. He had allowed himself to become attached to the double-oh, and had used a great deal of his magic to protect the man the second he was in imminent danger. Maybe it would have been simpler to cut the power as Tanner had suggested, and dealt with the blackout for weeks. It would have been easier to deal with than this. 

Only after a long while sitting in silence does Q become aware of another presence in the room with him. He tries to feel out for it, knowing that not even the council would put him in here with a stranger, but he finds that he can’t identify the person in the room. The energy simply isn’t right, it has no texture or vibration to it. He bites back his panic at the thought of exactly how much damage he has caused, how much of his own energy he has expended in saving James Bond from certain death that he can’t tell who is with him. Q supposes that it would be impossible for it to be his mother or father, because even after this separation he would be able to place his parents anywhere, so it isn’t them. Only when he hears a familiar groan, and a pathetic sounding cough can Q identify the presence…

“Fuck,” Q mutters, mostly to himself. He makes no real effort though, to keep the words to himself in his head, like he’s grown so used to.  
Because of course this would happen. Not only has Q been forcibly removed from the world he loves, but he’d drag a mortal into the mess with him. He didn’t even know this was possible. 

“Q? What---aren’t you at HQ? Where are we?” James mumbles, trying to get to his feet. Of course he can’t though, because the rules of the universe do not apply here, but Bond wouldn’t know where here is. Q thinks it’s just his luck that he puts all this effort into saving the man, only to kill him with the inevitable aneurysm that will undoubtedly occur when his Quartermaster of less than a year explains what exactly has happened. 

Q sighs again, because really this is his life isn’t it, before finding his feet and moving towards the voice. His eyes adjust readily enough, because all Q has to do to adjust to this reality is compartmentalize--he doesn’t need to suspend belief.

“James,” Q says once he reaches the agent on the far side of the room, which feels much further than he knows it ought to be. Q damn-near lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of Bond, because the man is entirely intact. It shouldn’t be possible for James to be here, absolutely no worse for wear in the same suit Q had seen him in earlier. “I, err, have a lot of explaining to do. We’re not at MI6, at least I don’t think so. You haven’t been captured either, as far as I know. We’re also unlikely to be dead, at least by my standards…” he trails off, uncertain of how to proceed.

James surprises him by laughing. It isn’t harsh, like Q had heard on the comms earlier. It’s gentler somehow, and reminds him of the time a few months back when Bond had been suspended for ripping out his tracking device and flouting M’s orders to change targets simply because his mark suspected his wife of having an affair, and tightened her security detail, making it harder to play his usual cards. Bond had returned relatively unscathed, little black book of accounts for gun-runners across Eastern Europe in hand, but M had been so irate that he had forced Bond to be Q Branch’s weapon tester, sitting him out for two missions. It probably would have been longer if Mallory hadn’t come across the pair of them early one morning, enjoying each other's company and general enthusiasm for explosives, letting time slip by into the next morning. Mallory had taken one look at them, sent Q home and Bond on a mission to Gibraltar to babysit some diplomat or another.

“I wasn’t aware you had standards, Quartermaster.” It’s practically a purr, and Q can feel the immediate rush even in the darkness. He’s lucky that it’s much too dark for Bond to see. Curse whoever told the man, because it is so much more complicated than that. Q isn’t really sure of what to say after that, even after he’s allowed the silence to linger for a beat too long that even Bond notices. “Q?” he asks, reaching out towards the younger man, presumably to offer some sort of comfort.   
Q barely hears him, though he does feel the agent tense at the exact same moment Q is alerted to the faint buzzing sound from the other end of the room. He wants to throttle someone, his temper flaring again. Of course they would send her, Q really should stop being surprised at all of this. It’s terribly predictable really, and this should serve as some comfort to him but it simply irritates him further. “Q,” James repeats now, more urgent. Somehow, James has picked up on the presence of another person in the room, although Q doesn’t really understand this. The sound is much too subtle for mortals to pick up on.

For what Q suspects is not the last time of this wretched day, he thinks to himself that this cannot possibly be happening.


	3. Chapter 3

One of the main reasons Q had made the decision to leave this world was to get away from this, from her. It’s almost funny, Q thinks, if not for the fact this woman likely held the fate of both of them in her hands. He had left this world to escape an arranged marriage, only to attach himself to someone many would see as strikingly similar. Even he couldn’t deny this, as much as he had grown to loathe her over the years.

She crossed the room easily, not bothering to hide her delight at the way the agent visibly stiffened as she came into view. She had gone for full theatrics--loose hair, pallid skin, third eye visible, although thankfully remarkably practical clothing. She was fully aware of the amount of control she had over the situation, and it showed in every step. “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days, Q? Strange names mortals give, don’t you think?” Her tone was almost bored, as if this whole clusterfuck Q had got himself into this time had interrupted something important. 

“Lizabet,” Q returns dryly, not quite bringing himself to look at her directly. He can practically hear the wheels spinning inside Bond’s head, trying to figure out the particulars. “It’s the life I chose, so I’d prefer if you addressed me as such.” While he wasn’t paying attention, some part of him has decided to treat this situation with the same amount of clinical detachment that he has found useful when one of his minions is being particularly inane. He turns to Bond now, fully regarding the man who hasn’t released an ounce of tension, standing loosely on the balls of his feet now as if expecting a fist fight. “That really isn’t necessary James, and I’m afraid it won’t be of any use where we are,” he doesn’t miss the way the double-oh’s glare hardens and unfortunately neither does Lizabet.

“And where,” Bond bites out, voice cold and dangerously detached “would that be? Perhaps you should enlighten me, Q.” He doesn’t seem to notice Lizabet’s growing amusement, and lack of concern of how long this drags out which Q is grateful for. He doesn’t want to even contemplate Bond’s reaction when he figures out that she is in complete control of the situation, not either of them.

Q idly rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tick he picked up from spending time with James, something that has become something of a habit as he often finds himself in situations where ‘enlightenment’ is required. He’s found that it helps diffuse the situation, at least amongst mortals. Of course here it would have little effect. “I..er, have some explaining to do, I suppose you could say that I am not wholly human,” he manages in one breath.

“Q, your eyes are two entirely different colours, hers are red, and the last thing I remember is an explosion that knocked me out of my chair just as I was about to make my escape. I’ve gathered as much.” The man has the grumpiest expression Q might have seen, a bigger frown than when he sends the man to medical. 

He’s about to offer a more coherent answer when the noise and vibration increases once again, putting the pair on edge again. It throws Q a second, because he hadn’t really expected to be summoned so quickly, and Lizabet takes the opportunity to jump in Q’s place. “As charming as I’m sure he’s answer will be for me, and confusing for you, I’m afraid we simply do not have the time at the moment. We’re being summoned at once. If you would follow me. You may want to be your little pet’s guide for this--we wouldn’t want him to faint again,” she interrupts easily. 

She’s practically openly mocking Q and his choice of lifestyle, of companion--and fuck did he really just think that in front of someone with a third eye, no wonder she’s so damned amused--barely holding back her amusement now. “He’s not my pet,” Q mutters sourly. 

Predictably, James isn’t able to remain conscious for the trip to the inner chambers, which is probably for the best considering some part of Q hopes to return him back to his body even if it means the increasing likelihood of being forced to stay behind. He allows himself to attempt to burn off his frustration pacing back and forth in front of Bond’s sleeping form, as he turns this over in his head. Of course, Bond is the reason they’re here or at least part of it, even though Q only has himself to blame. He thinks that he could have easily returned to this life he had swore he never would, he could accept the consequences of his actions if it weren’t for Bond. He really had become attached, and if he had been able to follow the protocol he’d spent a better part of a year, a magical year not mortal year attempting to perfect, neither would be be here. He had never intended to use magic on Bond, but his work was just too damned valuable, he was too valuable…

Eventually Q had worn himself out, still spent from earlier in the evening back in London, and settled down to sit and watch over Bond, waiting for him to stir. Privately, he hoped it would be sooner rather than later. He wasn’t sure how long mortals could be separated from their physical bodies, and if James was really in a comatose state there was a limited range of time before they took him off life support.


	4. Chapter 4

James did wake not long after, seemingly shorter than the previous time which worried Q, but by that time the counsel had long grown impatient. Nobody had spoken the entire time they had been in the room, but the energy from the presence of the elders seemed to have a visible effect on James. He seemed almost lethargic, or perhaps slightly concussed like Q often found him when he woke up in medical. Everything would be slower, which would irritate James making him that much more likely to upset the counsel who could rule against them. Q wasn’t sure the purpose of the theatrics, possibly for Bond’s benefit. He might react better to being able to talk to solid beings, although the semi-circles of cloaked figures was a little over the top. It was like a damned movie…

“Enough!” a single voice filled the room completely, effectively silencing the growing hum. At this James visibly relaxed, to which Q involuntarily raised an eyebrow at. He had no experience with this, his own counsel meeting was less of a formal chat and more of a message delivered to his family with strict instructions of passing to the mortal world.

"You have broken your vows,” the initial voice says, stepping forward although even Q cannot see who or decipher any kind of demarcation that would indicate this elder’s position to give him any hint at how much trouble he was in.  
“Vows?” James rasps out, already struggling to escape the leather restraints. Without thinking Q extends a hand out in warning, and surprisingly Bond stops, settling back into his seat.   
Q knows this is more for Bond’s benefit than anything else, because he may not have used his third eye since childhood but it was a conscious decision not to rather than a lack of ability, and most conversations here took place without actually speaking. He had always prided himself on turning this off and on at will, although many thought him selfish for it. “My condition of leaving, of not entering marriage or my given duties, was that I wouldn’t use my abilities in the mortal world,” Q says not raising his head, focusing instead on the rough calluses of James’ hands. It’s so easy now that he’s stopped fighting it, although it makes his chest tighten because this was always going to happen wasn’t it?

“You have let yourself become attatched to a mortal , one that has done so much to burn the world you seemed bent on protecting,” Lizabet spits out, stepping forward in the gown Q had last seen her wearing. It compliments her features perfectly, of course, which had really been the deciding factor in all this. Q could never accept that it was his destiny to be with her, when he hadn’t felt anything at all. They all learned from an early age, your partner had been assigned to you and at your binding ceremony you were supposed to establish a connection, but when Q had arrived he had seen nothing but misery and numbness. He had chose to leave this world, and perhaps it was selfish, and Lizabet had every right to be bitter and angry, but he had been happy and that had to be worth something.

So Q could understand that, but to insult James who prided himself on the sacrifice he made to attempt to put the world back together at least just a little bit, even if it was at the end of the day a sacrifice and yes, the world did burn just a little bit but it was for the best. They all had to believe in the concept of necessary evil, it was the only way anyone could have any hope of living with the consequences of their actions. That was crossing a line he just wouldn’t stand for, even in the given circumstances.

“You of all people do not get to talk about burning worlds, Lizabet. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why I left? Why I abandoned my duties, my family? Six years I’ve been gone, much longer here. You had to have asked yourself at least once.” The absolute calm Q felt right now should have unnerved him, given that James’ life was on the line, but he had to focus on this. The secret he had kept this entire time was his only defence, and he had played it close to his chest.

“Do not pretend you understand for even a second that you understand how the mortal world works. You haven’t been there, so you cannot stand where you do and tell me that James,” Q pauses then, less for emphasis than he would admit, his calm nerve already shaking as he has now captured the attention of the entire room, something that has always been unnerving to him, “has not done the world good, has not made sacrifices to protect what he feels is right. Do not,” he finishes, taking a step back.

“But you have become attached,” the elder intercedes, voice smooth and unaffected by Q’s speech. Q’s answer is immediate.

“Yes. It was not my intention, I had chosen my mortal life as a good match for my abilities, not for seeking a companion, but it has happened nonetheless. Magic was used to preserve his life, as James’ importance is absolute. My attachment is directly responsible for the increase in use of magic in ways that were not agreed upon,” Q replies sullenly, bravado wearing thin. “The bind was broken before I made my decision, I was not sure until I last saw Lizabet.” 

The answering silence is worse than Q imagined it would, though he never imagined this particular scenario. Bond of course, chooses this moment to speak, “You were to marry her, but you chose to become Quartermaster and what some kind of psychic guardian angel for a double-oh?” 

Q huffs a laugh a that, trust James to jump right to the point of things. “Essentially. It’s a tad bit more complicated than that. I’m afraid my attachment to you is permanent on my end, regardless of what happens here. Regardless of what the decide.”

“And this bind you mention?” James asks, and bless the man he truly does get it. Q isn’t sure how a mortal could understand, could adjust this well even someone as bright as James, but he has. 

“A bind is supposed to be our connection to this world, and our companions are supposed to be like us, but have different abilities. I work with electricity and energy, and while we’re all capable of telepathy, Lizabet sees more than most, more of a emotional clairvoyance. We’re matched not quite from birth, but early enough on so to ensure the strongest relationship. I chose to leave because I felt nothing. Mismatches are rare, and those that do occur often try to repair the bind, so to disavow it completely…” 

Q doesn’t finish, doesn’t know how to finish. Instead he looks down at James, focusing only on him. James who has been shot at, tortured, drowned all in the name of Queen and Country. James who is looking right back up at Q, not at all concerned at the very real possibility of dying in a different world (although a tiny voice in Q’s brain argues that it’s probably not that different than the almost certainty of dying in a different country, which James probably came to terms with years ago). James who is smiling just a tiny bit, not quite reaching his eyes at the idea of having his own personal guardian angel, arrogant sod that he is. James who is nodding off to sleep…

Q watches in muted horror as James goes from dropping off to sleep, to fading out of existence right before him. He can barely contain his rage, hesitating only to make sure Bond is gone completely before dropping every barrier he has placed on his abilities completely.

The room shakes, and a horrific crashing sound that reminds Q of china breaking fills the room. He can feel the energy surge around him, the blue flames spreading from his fingertips towards the elevated platform where the elders and Lizabet still stood, as if this were some performance. He feels his body tense, gaining momentum rather than losing it like every time he has used this in the last six years. Q doesn’t have a coherent thought other than James, James, James.

It isn’t until the cloaks drop to the floor completely, clearly not needed now that he isn’t here that Q realizes he’s screaming. And then Q is flat on his arse, winded and dizzy.

“What did you do to him,” Q chokes out, gasping. He tries to sit forward but he finds that it hurts too much, like someone has a weight pressed against his chest, crushing him slowly.

“He was sent back, if he’s strong enough, he’ll live.” Lizabet bites out.

“You have a decision to make,” the elder says to him, and his breathing is less constricted now. The calm,placating voice is familiar, but Q still cannot place it even now. “You can remain here, attempt to mend as you so explained it, or you will be sent back as mortal with your powers stripped.”

Q doesn’t hesitate. “James,” he says.

Lizabet’s anguished scream is the last thing he hears, he feels before everything is dark again.

* * *

Q opens his eyes to an entirely too bright light. It takes him a minute to place the steady, beeping sound and the entirely too thin scratchy material covering him. It takes a minute further to recognize Moneypenny at his side, and James. James leaning over his hospital bed, head pillowed at his side. Moneypenny chuckles at his relieved sigh, “Gave us quite the scare, fainting like that Quartermaster,” she looks over at Bond, who hasn’t stirred in what looks like a while, “Some more than others.”

Q looks over at her, waiting to see if there’s any visible reaction to what has changed, if she will notice the change. He can feel it himself, his mind a touch slower, everything a little duller and quieter. When she doesn’t say anything, he simply replies with “I could say the same.” 

She goes to leave then, claiming something about paperwork needing to be filed, and James stirs not long after. Q braces himself for the worst.  
“I didn’t know your eyes were greyish, Q” James says after tiring of waiting for Q to say something. “What happened? We’re alive, so I take it things went well?”

Q just smiles, wiggling his fingers at the heart rate monitor and various electrical equipment. Of course, nothing happens, and it only takes James a beat to catch on. “You chose me?” James asks, floored.

Q can only roll his eyes at him. “Just don’t get shot, double-oh-seven.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Bind That Breaks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746961) by [assasyngal (monayra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monayra/pseuds/assasyngal)




End file.
